


Prowl's Week

by 888Allis888



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Disclaimer: no real table or desk was hurt in the making of this fic, Dubcon Cuddling, Fear of Flying, Gen, Illnesses, Platonic Cuddling, Smuggling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/888Allis888/pseuds/888Allis888
Summary: A week in Prowls life.Day 1: Crash; Day 2; HighFor the 2020 Prowl Week prompt challenge
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22
Collections: Prowl Week





	1. Crash

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2020 Prowl Week prompt challenge; Run by @crimsonseekers  
> Thanks to my beta, xxMOONLITsky!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prowl and Minibots. Sideswipe did it.

There were Minibots in the hallway. This was, per say, not that unusual. They were a close knit gang. Liked to stick together in groups, even when out of their shared quarters. Some would think that they got more then enough of each other, that they should have been using their free time to be with other Autobots. Some did too. But the social structure and workings of the Minibot group mentality would be something to analyse further later, not that he had not done so long ago when he first had to have dealings with Minibots. 

There were Minibots in the hallway. This was noteworthy because they were blocking the entirety of it, and they seemed to be standing in some kind of formation with their backs towards him. They had the four larger ones in the back and the next line had three, and so forth. All of them were standing with their pedes together and arms down along their side as if standing in attention.

Prowl had been reading over the report on the datapad he was on his way to give to the Prime, and he had not noticed the Minibots until they appeared in his sensor range, which had been shortened of inside use as per the Privacy Mandate. This was unfortunate, because if he had been paying attention to the hall instead of the datapad, he might have seen the position Sideswipe was in further down the hall and the roundest member of the Minibots coming rolling on their side in alarming speeds towards the formation. 

He did not, and thus was promptly caught in the sudden tangle of ‘bots that fell over as Cosmos impacted with the makeshift Bowling Pins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Was that Prowl back there?"  
> "Nah, Sunny, you think so?"


	2. High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is altitude. And a fever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prowl, Firelight and virus. Somehow, it is Wheeljack’s fault.
> 
> How I use Dialog:  
> “Spoken”  
>  _Thoughts_

There was an Aerialbot flush to his back; a very warm Aerialbot, at that. This would not have been a problem if they were not so high up in the air. The ground, or anything else tangible, for that matter, had disappeared beyond his sensor range some time ago. His sensory panels were tense as could be in his attempt to not let them flutter to try and find ground/down/safety. It almost made him glad the fever-hot flier was holding him so tightly, the hot plating and vents almost burning his back kibble. The cold wind whipping on his plating was a huge contrast.

“Fireflight, you need to land,” he said firmly, but not unkindly. The flighty member of the Aerialbots often did poorly under reprimands, whether real or perceived.

“But the wind is so nice and cool up here~,” was the singsong answer. The flier swerved side to side, making Prowl’s pedes dangle and cold dread run down his spinal struts and up the back of his processor units. 

“Fireflight,” he said slowly, clearly, “ground bound mecha like me, prefer to have our wheels on solid ground. We do not do well in flight.”  _ Or free fall. _

“Mmmhm,” came the distracted reply. “Oh! What’s that?” Fireflight sharply changed direction and his grip on Prowl loosened.

“FIREFLIGHT!” Startled, the flier almost let go fully before tightening his grip again. Prowl's spark was racing even more inside its chamber. His sensors reared up and pinged his HUD with warnings of unknown altitudes and the lack of anywhere ground/down/safe.

Something touched his chevron. 

“Fireflight,” it was more of a struggle than it should have been to sound calm, “you need to set me down.” Then again, he was never meant to fly like this, or at all. He almost rathered it was one of the seekers. At least if  _ they _ dropped him, it would not be by accident.

“But, shiny!” That was definitely a whine. 

“No, I need to get down, gently.” Did he sound desperate? Did it matter at this point?

Fireflight swerved from side to side again, as if he was shaking his head with the entirety of his airborne frame. Prowl tightened his hold on the arms around him. He could not decide if he would rather have his optics off or not. 

“Please, Fireflight,” he said, pleading now. He doubted Fireflight would remember later.

A new change in direction. Is that a mountain? Are they losing altitude? His sensors were screaming at him as the mountain top neared. Ground/down/safe. Warnings flashed across his HUD.

> ` Warning: Slow Down `
> 
> ` Warning: Slow Down `
> 
> ` Warning: Crash Imminent `
> 
> ` Warning: Crash Imminent `

The mountain rises up as if to slap him in the faceplate.

Prowl does not squeak. 

He felt the drag trying to rip him from Fireflight’s grip as the jet slowed down. They did not crash, but as Fireflight landed, he kept going down. Prowl's sensors had time to ping him ground/solid/safe as his pedes touched the rock-covered ground of the mountain top before he was pinned flush on his front.

There is a flier on his back. 

There is something touching his chevron.

“m'Shiny,” Fireflight mumbles around the chevron in his mouth.

Prowl made a note to ensure Wheeljack made a not-so-reflective version of the new wax everyone had to use after their supply of Cybertronian Wax was depleted. Prowl got the short straw of trying it out himself after the incident yesterday had left him with scuff marks and paint transfers from all the Minibots involved. He had been a colourful sight to behold. Now, he was simply shiny.

He pings his would-be rescuers with his current coordinates and resigns himself to wait. It will be a long wait with all of the fliers out of commission, down with some virus only they seemed to contract. All the fliers had been quarantined to the flight hanger for the duration of the virus's incubation period.

He expected a report on how a fever-high Fireflight had managed to sneak out of the locked-down hanger. Apparently, fever highs turned this flier into some sort of Corvicon, even moreso than usual.

“You are so shiny~,” Fireflight sighs.

“Thank you, Fireflight.” 

At least he is no longer cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prowl don’t know if he wants to laugh or cry, watching the rescue party try and scale the steep mountain. He just want the day to be over.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, xxMOONLITsky!


End file.
